


Dubious

by for_the_love_of_wolves



Series: Alphabet Stories [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drugs, Eichen | Echo House, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Peter is an idiot and everyone is done with him, Post Season 4, Pre-Relationship, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29339790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_the_love_of_wolves/pseuds/for_the_love_of_wolves
Summary: Dubious = 1. hesitating or doubting, 2. not to be relied upon; suspect.After Mexico, Stiles can't stop asking questions. He needs answers. So he visits Peter in Eichen House.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Alphabet Stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129667
Comments: 38
Kudos: 121





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For this challenge, I write 500-1000 words stories (did you hear that muse?! 500-1000 words ...) to prompt words for every letter of the alphabet: D for dubious.
> 
> Edit: because my muse wishes so, this story will have at least three chapters.

A few weeks after the whole Mexico debacle, with the pack scattered and recovering on their own, with Peter in Eichen House and Derek somewhere in Brazil, Stiles still feels like he is missing something. He sets the pieces together and they make no sense. 

Peter makes no sense. 

Stiles doesn’t really buy the “he’s just a power hungry, psychopathic, narcissistic asshole who doesn’t care about anybody but himself”. 

Because sure, Peter is full of himself, self-centered and he does love power, but … Even if Peter acts like he doesn’t need anybody and doesn’t care if anyone gets hurt because of him, Stiles thinks he does care about at least some people. Only a few. Like a handful. 

And somehow, after spending so much time with Peter after the whole Nogitsune disaster, Stiles came to think, he might belong to this handful of people Peter cared about. After all, Peter never sent him away, when he stood on the doorstep of the wolf’s apartment. Peter let him read his precious books no one else was allowed to touch. Peter made him pancakes and taught him chess moves. 

And every so often, Peter talked about the past. It wasn’t much, only bits and pieces. But Stiles is pretty sure barely anyone else knows that Peter drove Cora to piano lessons, or that he bought Derek a leather jacket so he wouldn’t look like “a grumpy, lanky yeti” all the time.  
  
Once upon a time, before Kate Argent decided to wipe out the Hales because they are werewolves, Peter had a halfway normal life and cared about his nieces and nephews. 

So, why the hell would Peter work with the person who took everything from him? The person who burned his family alive and put him in a six year long coma? The person responsible for Peter’s spiral into insanity? 

It hurts his head and Stiles tries to forget about it. He tries to tell himself that Peter really is just a backstabbing asshole who probably would sell Stiles out for a little bit of power, but it doesn’t work. Stiles blames it on all the time he gave to Peter. Time he can’t get back. Does he want it back? Stiles has no idea. It’s been nice, after all … 

No matter what he tries, the nagging need for an answer refuses to vanish. Stiles needs to talk to Peter. 

* * *

It takes a while until they let him see Peter. Only an encouraging (speak: threatening) call from his Dad did the trick. Although Stiles’ Dad isn’t thrilled about his wish to see Peter, he knows his son well enough and prefers the legal option over the alternative. 

Peter doesn’t look like Peter. That’s Stiles’ first thought when he sees the werewolf for the first time in 2 months. 

He looks like a ghost of the Peter he’d bickered and played chess with. There are dark circles under the wolf’s hazy eyes. The usual brilliant blue now dull. He is swaying and probably only walks straight because of the guard’s hand in his back. The guard eyes Stiles’ with blatant annoyance and distrust. Stiles just glares back and sits more upright. 

Peter slumps onto the chair opposite Stiles and up close his skin looks clammy. Stiles assumes whatever they are drugging Peter with, they gave him a strong dose of it before this. An uneasiness settles in his stomach. 

Peter raises his head, blinking at Stiles and even that looks like it’s a strenuous movement. The wolf’s eyes widen a bit and his nostrils flare. He tries to smirk and fails miserably. “Stiles,” he says with a hoarse voice. 

“Peter. How are you doing?” Stiles wants to slap himself. He didn’t come here to make small talk. Also what kind of question is that when the answer sits right in front of him? 

Peter barks a short laugh that makes the guard who went to stand at the door shift his weight. “Oh, I am just peachy. I absolutely love being high all the time and having no idea if it’s day or night. Also the service is fantastic. 10 from 10 stars. If you like the occasional electric shock or stupid dog-joke that is.” 

Stiles smiles weakly although he doesn’t feel like it. “Yeah, uh, that’s what I thought.” 

Peter puts his cuffed hands on the table separating them and Stiles’ gaze falls on the black lines spreading out from the metal where it managed to cut into the skin too deep. He’s not surprised they are using wolfsbane, but it still makes him feel even more sick. This isn't right. No one should be treated like this.

“What are you doing here, Stiles? Did they send you to make sure I’m not up to anything?” Peter asks him and sneers. “Well, I hope _this_ manages to reassure you.” 

Stiles raises his chin. “No. No one else knows I’m here. I want answers.” 

Peter arches his brow. “Answers,” he echoes.

“Why did you help Kate?” Stiles blurts out. 

Peter first looks surprised, then he scowls. “First, it was the other way round. Second, I was going to get rid of her eventually.” 

“After getting rid of Scott?” Stiles arches his brow. 

“Well, yes.” Peter leans forward on his chair, a sudden spark of wild rage in his glazed eyes. “He’s not going to keep it safe, Stiles. The territory. The Nemeton. The pack. It’s not right. It doesn’t feel right. I did try to tell you, something terrible will happen if you don’t take care of threats. I would have taken care of them. You have no idea how it feels like, Stiles. How it feels like to have this itch right under your skin, when the wolf notices nothing works, nothing feels right … A pack has to function properly. If it doesn’t, it is going to be wiped out.” Peter stops, breathing heavily. There is something agonized in his eyes. “Kate … Kate was just a means to an end. She was there to be used, so I used her.” 

“Was I a means to an end too?” Stiles asks quietly. 

Peter looks genuinely surprised at that question. “No. Of course not. You were the means to keep me human.” 

Stiles’ breath hitches. He doesn’t understand … 

Peter seems to notice. “Anchor, Stiles. You became my anchor.” 

“I … Why?” 

“You came to spend time with me. You never smelled of rejection. You let me scent you and you scented me back. It was all there. I didn't understand why, but I liked it," Peter says, tilting his head.

Stiles doesn’t know how to feel about that. “But it wasn’t enough,” he states. “Obviously it wasn’t enough.” 

Peter smiles weakly. It looks more like a grimace. “No,” he says barely audibly. “It was more than enough. It was too good. Too good to last. Nothing good ever lasts. Not in this world. But … I wanted you to be safe. I did.” Peter’s smile vanishes and his eyes get harder. “I would do everything again. I don’t feel sorry. If I do, it’s only because it didn’t work.” 

Stiles is at loss for words. He barely notices the guard tells them gruffly that time’s over. 

Peter manages to touch Stiles’ hand briefly, his fingers cold. “Thank you for coming, Stiles. You can come again if you want to. I have a lot of time now,” Peter tells him before he’s hauled up. Maybe, it’s the drugs. Or it’s the isolation. Whatever it is, it makes Peter's self-made facade crumble for a moment. For a moment, he looks hopeful and almost … pleading. 

Then, he’s gone and Stiles sits there, feeling hollow. 

* * *

Later, when he’s in the warmth and safety of his room, he thinks back to the visit and it makes his skin crawl. He thinks back to how Peter looked. How much thinner and weaker he was, how the cuffs cut into his skin and how his eyes almost fell shut a few times. 

This isn’t right. It never was, it never will be. Peter went through a shit amount of trauma. It all piled up in his mind. Where is it all supposed to go? He should be in proper treatment, not rotting in a cell in Eichen House. Alone with everything inside his head. Abandoned again. It isn’t right. There are rights after all. They can’t deny Peter the rights someone else would get, just because he’s a werewolf. That’s fucking speciesm, isn’t it? 

Stiles bites his own fist in frustration. Fuck. He’s really going to do it, right? 

He is going to break Peter out of Eichen House. 


	2. Chapter 2

Over the night, Stiles works out three possible escape plans. All of them are risky and could get him killed. Stiles isn’t thrilled, but he is too tired to start a fourth plan. He falls asleep sitting on his chair, papers scattered on the floor. 

When he wakes up in the morning, his Dad is standing in the room, one of Stiles’ plans in his hand, brows wandering up higher and higher as his eyes flick over the hastily written words and the sketches on the crumpled paper. 

“Um,” Stiles makes, scratching the back of his head. “It’s not what it looks like?” It actually is though … 

Noah glares at him. “Seriously, Stiles?” 

Stiles raises his hands defensively. “I can explain this.” 

Noah crosses his arms. “Then explain it to me. Explain why you are trying to find a way to get Peter Hale out of Eichen House. What did he tell you when you went to see him? Did he try to manipulate you?” His eyes narrow. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go ...” 

Stiles sits up straighter, grimacing at the ache in his back and the foul taste in his mouth. “No. He didn’t try to do anything. I don’t think he would have been able to. Dad, you should have seen him. They are drugging him. He was barely able to look at me. Also they apparently electro shock and insult him. And he lost weight, he looks like a ghost.” 

Noah frowns, but he is not really radiating sympathy. “Well. He did try to get a teenager killed. Oh, and I also remember how he ripped that mouth-missing guy apart. Very vividly, because it happened right in front of my eyes,” he says dryly. 

Stiles scrunches his nose. For a moment he curses Peter inwardly. For deciding to turn back to hostile just when people were ready to trust him. That idiot. “Yeah. He did that. I remember too, trust me. But … Dad, you are the Sheriff. Do you really not care about someone being denied their basic rights?” 

Noah sighs. “Of course I care. But what are you expecting me to do? Am I supposed to let a homicidal werewolf run around?” 

“I am not asking you to let him run around. I am only asking you to get him out of Eichen House. You know this place, Dad. You’ve seen it. You’ve seen how they were treating human patients, what do you think happens to supernatural ones? Do you think they make Peter attend therapy sessions? Do you think they give him medication? Why do you think it took so long until they would let someone see Peter? They don’t care about him. He’s rotting away in there,” Stiles says, getting angrier with every moment.

“Stiles …” his Dad starts and no. Now that Stiles started, he can’t stop. He has to get his thoughts about this out. His thoughts about how freaking unfair this whole thing is. 

“Peter did a lot of awful, messed up things, yes. But maybe, we should ask ourselves why he felt the need to start with that again, after he did what he could to help. After he was nice to me when no one else was. After he helped me dealing with nightmares and panic attacks. He made me freaking pancakes! And also, maybe we should ask ourselves what it makes us, if we are okay with letting someone, who has spent six years in a coma, abandoned by the rest of his family, trapped in his own body while being able to sense everything, rotting away in a cell in the basement of a fucking shithole tarned as mental hospital!” Stiles points a finger at his Dad, whose face is stony while he listens. 

“You were there when it happened. You were working on the Hale fire case too. You know how bad it was. You’ve seen it. We both know Peter is traumatized as hell, although he would never admit that to anyone. No one can come out of this without carrying a shit pile of trauma around with them. And what would you give to someone with so much trauma? Yeah, right, proper therapy! What is Peter getting? Like I said, a cell in a basement, isolation, drugging, insults and torture on top because they think you can do that to werewolves. Do you really think this is right? Because I can’t think about it without feeling this wrongness in my stomach.” Stiles stops, his throat dry after so much talking. 

Noah frowns. He looks thoughtful and Stiles feels a hint of hope. Finally, his Dad nods and sighs. “I am going to take a look into it, alright? If they really are mistreating him, I can tell them I ordered a transfer.” 

Stiles slumps in relief. “Thank you, Dad.” 

Noah raises a finger and narrows his eyes. “But even if you are right and we get him out of there, there is no way I am just going to let him walk away. I won’t watch him murdering anyone another time. And if I have to, I’ll use my gun. Just so you know, how this will go.” 

Stiles just nods. Fair enough. All he wants is to get Peter out of this shithole. Because him being there, leads to nothing.

* * *

It takes his Dad exactly one look before he says, “I want him out.” 

The guard that had led them down into the basement gruffly, startles. “What?” 

Noah looks at him calmly, but there is an edge in his voice when he repeats his order. Stiles knows that edge all too well. Right now, it makes him very happy to hear it. At the same time, he feels sick to his stomach when he glances at Peter, who looks even worse than when Stiles visited him. 

He is laying curled up on the cot, without a blanket or pillow, body tense, eyes closed. He doesn’t react to them at all and Stiles suspects that the cell is soundproof, which is just another cruelty on top of the others. Imagining that Peter only hears his own breath day and night makes his skin crawl. Who the fuck thought this would be a good idea?! 

Even from a distance, Stiles can see the red lines on Peter’s arms, a stark contrast to his pale skin, and he is sure he is staring at self-inflicted wounds. Fuck. 

The guard clears his throat. “Sir, the patient is currently too unstable to be moved and -”

“You are abusing your so-called patient,” Noah interrupts him. “That’s why I am going to transfer him.” 

“But he’s just a -” the guard stops when both Noah and Stiles glare at him. 

“What’s going on here?” a new voice says and everyone turns around. An older man in the white clothes of a doctor approaches them, a frown on his face. He introduces himself as Doctor Fenris, the one in charge of Eichen’s special wing. 

Noah calmly repeats, “I want Hale out of there. He’s being transferred.” 

Fenris’ frown deepens. “Excuse me, but I don’t think you can decide …” 

Noah straightens up and raises a brow. “I’m the Sheriff, Doctor. I am certain, I can.” 

“Well. I am not sure you are aware what you are dealing with here. An unstable, hostile werewolf is not something you should take easy, _Sheriff_ ,” Fenris says quietly. 

“Oh, I know exactly what I am dealing with, _Doctor_. Don’t worry about me. But do tell me, how urgently do you want the public to know about what exactly is going on down here?” Noah asks with a mild smile. 

Fenris grits his teeth. But Stiles can see in his eyes that they won this fight. 

The effect when they open the door to the cell is immediate and confirms Stiles’ suspicion that it is soundproof. 

Peter flinches and growls, the noise echoing in the room. Stiles is the first one to enter, not even listening to the protests behind him, coming from the guard and the man calling himself a doctor. 

“Hey, Peter,” he says quietly, as he approaches the cot. 

The growling stops. Peter sniffs the air and blinks at Stiles, his eyes widening. They are hazy again. “Stiles? You’re real?” 

Stiles’ stomach clenches in sympathy. He knows what it’s like to not be certain about what’s real or not. Has Peter had hallucinations? 

“Yeah. I’m real.” 

“What … what are you doing here?” Peter asks or rather slurs, slowly sitting up. His eyes flicker to the other people in front of the cell. 

“What do you think? I am getting you out of here,” Stiles says, grinning. 

“Out,” Peter repeats, looking doubtful. “Why would you do that?” 

“Because I know Eichen is a shithole and it will only make you worse.” 

“But why do you even care?” Peter presses, still looking doubtful and confused. He also looks like he is about to fall asleep any moment.

“You cared about me,” Stiles says quietly. Peter blinks, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Stiles glances at his Dad, who is still arguing with Doctor Fenris, so he tells Peter in a hushed voice, “I actually had mapped out three spectacular escape plans. I’m sure you would have liked them much better than this, but my Dad didn’t like the plans at all for some reason. So … we have to do it his way,” he shrugs. 

Peter looks from Stiles to Noah and back. Before he can say anything, Noah clears his throat and crosses his arms. “Can you walk, Hale?” 

Peter manages to look mildly offended and that makes Stiles feel a bit less worried. He watches as the werewolf gets to his feet - and immediately sways like a boat on a stormy ocean, his eyes unfocused and his hand coming up to touch his forehead that glistens with sweat. 

Stiles instinctively reaches out and grabs one of Peter’s arms, trying to steady him. After a moment, his Dad is there as well, gripping Peter’s other arm. Stiles can see the same worry he feels reflected in his Dad’s eyes. Worry and … anger. A good combination. 

Stiles knows that his Dad knows that no one could pull off an act like this. Not even Peter Hale. 

They support Peter out of the cell and lead him through the hallway, leaving the guard and Fenris with their sour expressions behind. 

* * *

“I have a feeling I am going to regret this,” Noah mumbles and glances at Peter over the rearview mirror. 

The werewolf is sleeping in the back of the car, buried under two blankets they had in the trunk. He didn't stop shivering. 

“He’s already going into withdrawal,” the Sheriff adds and sighs heavily. “We need someone who knows about that stuff.” 

“But not Deaton,” Stiles says quickly. Deaton would tell Scott and Scott would tell everyone else. Stiles doesn’t want anyone else to know. Not yet. “And not Melissa.” As sad as that makes him, because he knows she would have helped. Even though she isn’t fond of Peter because of various valid reasons, she always helps a patient. 

“Well. Who else can we ask?” Noah asks. 

“Mr. Argent knows a lot about werewolves,” Stiles says. 

Noah hums thoughtfully. “I haven’t seen Chris Argent for months.” 

Stiles bites the inside of his cheek. It’s no wonder Argent needed another break after … Well, after Peter - of course it had to be Peter … - impaled him with a rod and left him for death. Again, Stiles feels like cursing Peter. Is there anyone in Beacon Hills who Peter didn't manage to put off?! _Me, apparently_ , Stiles thinks dryly.

“I am going to try to contact him. Until then, I guess we are on our own,” he admits, glancing at his Dad, whose lips curl into a joyless smile. 

“Great. On our own with a werewolf who goes into withdrawal and looks like he was starved. The same werewolf that ripped a man apart after I managed to arrest him, then worked with the woman who killed his family, to get a teenager killed. I am so looking forward to this,” Noah mumbles and shakes his head. 

Stiles silently agrees. But he really hopes he won't regret doing this. He can't take another disappointment.


End file.
